


do androids dream of electric sheep?

by gdgdbaby



Category: Selfie (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen, Slice of Life, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HIGGS-1125 comes into full cognizance to a sea of violent red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do androids dream of electric sheep?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dudavocado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudavocado/gifts).



> robot au. or, eliza teaches henry how to be a human being.

HIGGS-1125 comes into full cognizance to a sea of violent red. It obscures almost the entirety of the rest of his vision, minus the top right corner of his visual field, which reveals the contents of a pristine lab and an assortment of artificial limbs in various states of assembly.

"Oh, Higgs-Boson," the curtain of red says, after a brief moment. "There you are."

"The Higgs-Boson is an elementary particle in the Standard model of particle physics, the existence of which explains, among other things, why fundamental particles have mass," HIGGS-1125 rattles off, voice smooth and controlled. "Referring to me by such a title is erroneous and, frankly, confusing."

The curtain of red laughs, and moves back to reveal almond-shaped eyes and a round, grinning face. Her nails are also red, and contrast stunningly with the white lab coat she's wearing. "Most people just say hello. You'll learn, eventually." Her slender index finger catches on the curve of a button. "Of that, I have no doubt."

 

 

KK Cybernetics, HIGGS-1125 is informed during his first day of existence, is in the business of building functional robotic companions for everyday use. Dr. Eliza Dooley, one of the engineers in charge of emotional development, communication, and people-like behaviors, has lovingly given him the human name "Henry."

"Why Henry?" HIGGS-1125 asks, as she checks his systems. "Because of Henry VIII? Henry Ford? Henry David Thoreau?"

Eliza shakes her head and laughs again. "Alright, calm down, hotshot, this isn't Famous Henry bingo." She pauses, checks something on her PADD, and makes a little note before fiddling with one of the wires in his arm. "Actually, I named you after my first pet. He was a turtle."

"I was named after a turtle?" HIGGS-1125 repeats, dismayed for a reason he can't put a name to, which only makes him more dismayed. He was programmed to know everything. It doesn't make sense, not being able to disentangle his feelings. "But that's not—it's so—arbitrary. Almost meaningless."

"Your first lesson," Eliza says patiently, "is about emotional connections. Humans are fickle, arbitrary creatures. Our emotions are fleeting, but strong. Not meaningless at all." She pauses, considering. "Some might say they're the most meaningful thing you can experience in life. I had Henry the turtle for twenty years. He grew up with me. He was my best friend, when I didn't have any in school. I loved that little turtle, and I put in as much work to keep it alive as I have in you." She shrugs, dimple creasing her cheek as she grins. "Plus, I liked the alliteration."

HIGGS-1125 digests this. "Henry," he says, tasting the word in his mouth again. On second thought: no matter where it came from, it's not a bad name, and Eliza's emotional attachment is rooted in as sensible an explanation as possible. "I suppose it's acceptable."

 

 

A regular day at KKC consists of countless diagnostics and systems upgrades. "You're our newest model," says Raj, head of artificial intelligence and bionics. "Naturally, we're trying to make you the best you can be."

HIGGS-1125 considers this. "And that includes learning how to behave like a human."

"Humans want companions that are like them," Raj explains. He does something to the circuitry in the back of HIGGS-1125's neck that tickles. "You're book-smart because we made you that way, but it's hard to code for the ability to adequately assess a person's emotional state. That's something you'll have to figure out for yourself." He clicks something into place above HIGGS-1125's spine. "Or, well. That's what Eliza's for."

"Eliza is a little..." HIGGS-1125 says, and trails off.

"Hmm?" Raj says. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he says, and folds his hands in his lap. Not volunteering the information would probably be what Eliza considers a step in the right direction. _Know when not to speak!_ she'd said that morning, rapping her knuckles against the counter of her workshop. _Withholding something instead of just regurgitating everything you've ever heard is part of the human condition._

 

 

HIGGS-1125 doesn't sleep. When the lab shuts down for the night and he's left alone to his own devices, he usually connects himself to the Wi-Fi network and surfs the web, a treasure trove of (sometimes dubious) information. Eliza's favorite television show is _Revenge_. "I can totally see myself in Emily Thorne," she mentioned once in passing to Charmonique, the office receptionist, who said she could see it, but also much preferred _Scandal_. HIGGS-1125 watches both shows in one night and asks, when Eliza snaps her gloves on in the morning, what she thought of the latest episode.

"Oh, Henry, that's great," Eliza says, clasping HIGGS-1125's hands in hers. "You're learning on your own, now!"

"What did I do?" HIGGS-1125 asks, blinking.

Eliza beams. "You made an attempt to establish genuine rapport with someone. Good work." She tilts her head to the side and studies his face. "And, as a matter of fact, I did very much enjoy it."

 

 

Joan is KinderKare's leading expert in synthetic biology, and monitors HIGGS-1125's progress during each of his weekly physicals. She is nothing like Eliza: doesn't speak, apart from the perfunctory niceties at the beginning of their meetings and the litany of necessary questions as he's running on the treadmill in her workshop, ECG cables connected to each of his pulse points.

Which is why it's so odd when Eliza sits in during his fourth physical, chattering away to a stone-faced Joan, filling the room with the customary ramble of her conversation. HIGGS-1125 feels his shoulders relaxing, the lilt of Eliza's voice washing over him in gentle waves. By the end of the session, when they're doing yoga together on the tatami mats, even Joan's face has broken into a smile—though that might have more to do with the impossible pretzel Eliza's twisted herself into rather than any of her natural charm.

 

 

Eliza takes him on a totally illegal test run outside the KKC facility a month after he gains sentience. "We're going to get caught," he mumbles, peering out the fogged-up window in Eliza's car at the loud bar that they're parked outside of. "They're going to decommission me and fire you and all your hard work will have been for nothing—"

Eliza slaps him on the back. HIGGS-1125 doesn't look down to study her out-of-work outfit. Definitely doesn't let his eyes linger on the spaghetti straps wilting against her shoulders, or the bounce of her red, red hair. "Stop worrying so much, Henry," Eliza says, and leaps out the driver's side door. "Just relax. Breathe. That's it. Now go out there and get 'em."

Henry's task for the evening is to bond with a stranger at the bar. He slides up to the counter and orders a whiskey, neat, before cracking into the complimentary peanuts. An older man with round, wire-rimmed glasses and an impressive bald spot lifts his head to stare blearily at him.

"You alright, buddy?" Henry asks. He cautiously reaches out to pat his shoulder, and is moderately surprised when the man doesn't pull away. "Looks like you could use another drink."

Ten minutes and two beers later, the man—Larry, forty-five, currently in a bit of a rut with his spousal relationship—is laying his entire life story out for Henry to see. "I tried to apologize with a flash mob," Larry says, sobbing into the neck of his bottle. "That's the most romantic move in my arsenal, and she said that was the worst part!"

For a moment, Henry feels a bit like Eliza. "Perhaps you should," he begins, and outlines a tentative list of things that Larry could try, including _just speak to her normally_ and _listen to your wife when she tells you she hates flash mobs_.

"You're a good guy, Henry," Larry says tearfully, at the end of the night. "A real pal." He passes out a moment later, sprawled out across the bar, bottle wobbling dangerously in his hand. Henry rescues it before it lilts off the edge and smashes against the floor.

The bartender gives Henry a knowing, sympathetic look. "Don't worry about Larry," he says. "He's a regular. I got it."

Eliza finds him outside fifteen minutes later, her breath steaming in the cold. "Henry! You did it!" Her teeth flash in the light of the street lamp. "I saw everything."

"Does that mean I've graduated?" Henry says, feeling himself smile. "Has the student surpassed the master?"

"Oh, please," Eliza says, rolling her eyes. She tucks her arm in his, their elbows interlocking at the joint. "You've got a long way to go. Luckily, you've got me."

"Yes," Henry says. She doesn't notice when he loops their pinkies together. Her nails are, again, bright red like her hair. "I do."


End file.
